At 68, I should be slowly down. I’m sexually charged, and my libido is strong, so I’m not slowly down. What has changed is a man who satisfies not just my lust but engages my mind. I knew it was coming, and now when I cruise the internet most men look hungry, and that’s no longer sexy. What surprised me is my genuine lack of interest. It’s not quite “the good old day” when you woke and wondered why you had fucked the man lying next to you? Too embarrassed to admit to ferocious lust, I put it off to one too many beers.
Now friends are dying of regular diseases like two with advanced cancer. All the more reason to find strength in friends and nature. I’m spiritual without a religion, and I wonder as I get closer if I will find solace in poetry or painting to keep me occupied.
Lust has changed to a hunger for men with imaginations and a passion. That could be music or cars or the outdoors; it’s fulfilling their dream that attracts me. What I fear is boredom. Doing the same old/ same old will drive me to contemplate doing myself in. Maybe writing with continue to challenge me.
It’s not an end, but transition.